Author's Note: Well, this is going to be my first real full length, but it's still probably not going to be that long. It's AU, considering the seventh book & it's Ginny/Draco. So, please, do me a favor, read, review, etc.

Summary: Ginny Wealsey is taken hostage during the War, and her somewhat keeper happens to be the fallen Draco Malfoy. However, in a desperate attempt for survival with sexual abuse, Ginny becomes very attached to Draco as she fears that no one will be her hero, except for him.

Till Kingdom Come

stockholm syndrome –

an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival.

-x-

Do you remember when you were young? The faerie tales you were told to make you calm, like a Hindu cow, before you fell asleep? The glass of milk or juice every morning to make you grow big and strong? The small, frequent smiles when you asked a clever question? Do you remember these things? I fear as though I'm beginning to forget the real world. I'm forgetting my memories; the only thing that kept me sane for the longest time after everything I knew failed me.

I can't hold on much longer. My grip is growing tired of waiting for someone to save me from these chains and shackles and this stone prison. I need a hero or a fairy godmother to save me. I need strength to pull through. I need something in the very small sense, compassionate. My breathing grows more strained each day, and every day he comes to visit I feel a bit more alive. He smiles, he talks to me as he lets me eat the food I'm given twice a day.

We talk about stupid things. Things that send us both into times when we were enemies. The World Cup, for instance, or pet peeves. On occasion, we can't help but to laugh quietly, because if someone hears, we'll both be hurt. Him, more so than me.

He'll walk in, early in the morning, take out his wand and undo the chains on my wrists that hang above my head. He always looks a bit sadder each day, but I don't ask him why. We don't talk about the important things, big things. The little things keep us both saner.

This isn't to say that this prison hold is a luxury. But to stay optimistic, I have to fake it for it to be real. I have to smile and laugh with him because I'm not sure if he really understands how much those other men hurt me every day long after he's left my side. All those other men must be more than ten years older than I, the type of antagonist that doesn't care if you're only eighteen or that you're unarmed.

These are the type of followers the Dark Lord has raised, and it is the very least to say he raised them well. They are the type of rogues that will point their wands in your face and torture you without using any physical or magical force. This is what they are trained to do. They ask you your name, your age, your mother's name, your father's name, your sister's name, and so on. They ask you all about your life, and get all they can out of you, so you can see your life before you eyes. Then they say goodbye, and make sure it's real with that one curse.

I have been here for twenty five days. I honestly wish they had straight up killed me, rather than hold me hostage.

-x-

"Imperio," the man's voice comes from the doorway before he enters. All I can do is feel my body fall limp against the granite walls and in the chains that holds my wrists above my head. If you've never been under the Imperius Curse, it is basically like being one of those dolls you've always played with as a young girl, just much more flexible. You never get a choice of what to do, and you can always pick up from where you left off.

He climbs on top of me, his breath reeking of whiskey, as he clumsily kisses me and tries to pull off my clothes, but the shackles block them. He clumsily casts another spell to get them off before resuming his actions. This man is well over twenty years my senior, and is quadruple my size. But, despite being crushed and violated while being literally unable to do a thing, the worst possible thing is that I can't shut my eyes or blink at all. It must be something going around, because the cycles of men that seem to come in all seem to perform that one charm on me.

That would be the very least they could do; but to see a face I can never remember over and over again, and being forced to stare back at it, that is the epitome of all the torture I have endured.

-x-

The man slams the door behind him, leaving me cold and my shirt half buttoned. He was naturally too lazy to do it, but some have a bit of will to do so afterwards. In a sense, after you a rape a girl, wouldn't you button back up her shirt? That's what you're looking for after all, intimacy in a body shape with open eyes. I heave myself up against the wall, straining with all my pain. I can feel my head and my eyes grow heavy from the lack of sleep I've had. The tension on my arms being pulled up relentlessly doesn't help either. I hang my head, letting my eyelids fall shut a bit too. The cold air sweeps between my shirt and skin, causing goose bumps to ripple all along my skin.

But I try not to think of the fact that I'm cold or that I hurt like hell. So I close my eyes, and I pray for the one sanctuary besides him that I have in this place. I pray for sleep, but my faith has always failed me. It failed me after the first week went by, and the second, and then the third. I can only imagine how many have died in the real world, and if anyone is actually looking for me. Sometimes it feels as though I'm sleeping, when I'm actually wide awake, waiting for something to reach out and pull me into reality.

These days, I don't hope or pray much for someone to save me. I ask for sleep, considering if I do get any, at the most it is under an hour. So, instead, I've put my faith in something, someone who has become my only constant in what my life has become. I wait for hours to hear his voice mutter that spell, and to walk through holding a tray of food. You might think I'd want the food, but each day I feel number, more resistant to the cold floor and the icy air. I can't feel my hunger pains as much as I used to. Every day I wait, because he is my hero. The only obstacle is that he can't save me from my prison hold; we are both its captives.

-x-